


Splish Splash, Mayhem and a Bath

by Gnomeskillet



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Junkrat is a racist dick, Shenanigans, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 22:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10370727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gnomeskillet/pseuds/Gnomeskillet
Summary: Because Omnics don't produce sweat or oils from their skin, bathing frequently isn't a necessity. Still, it's nice to take the time every once in a while to get the dirt and grime out from joints and beneath their plating. Scrubbing down is a bit difficult for Bastion to achieve on his own, so Zenyatta gladly volunteers to give him a wash. Everything is going well......Until Junkrat arrives.





	

It was, truly, a disgusting scene. That blasted Bastion unit, planted down in front of the hanger, cheerfully booping and dweedling along to the chirps of that stupid bird it was so fond of. Zenyatta, standing on his tippy-toes in a pair of swim trunks - blue with little peace symbols all over them - scrubbing down the Bastion with a huge fluffy sponge, a bucket of soapy water at his feet. Someone else might have called it quaint, or charming. Just a happy little Omnic car wash, innocently taking place on a bright, sunny day at Watch Point: Gibraltar.

It made Junkrat’s stomach turn. Puh-leeeeaze, gag him with a spoon or something.

“My, what a pretty little picture we have here,” he sneered, hobbling up to the Omnics. He came out here to do…. Something, it didn’t matter now, harassing the scrap piles took precedent. “Is the sweet little Bastion enjoying its bath?”

A moment passed as Zenyatta half-turned to face Junkrat, glancing over his shoulder at the Bastion. Then it burbled a low, ominous tone, and Zenyatta cocked his head to the side.

“Are you sure?” he asked, something about the tone of his voice and the tilt of head making Junkrat feel as though he was being sized up. He didn’t like it, and he liked it even less when the Bastion chirped an affirmative, drawing a quiet chuckle from Zenyatta.

“I agree, he certainly could use a bath.”

Zenyatta turned to face him fully, and it was at that moment that Junkrat realized what Zenyatta held in the hand hidden behind his body: a hose with a bright yellow spray-head on it.

“No, wait-!” was all Junkrat got out as he threw his arms up in front of his face. Cold water hit his chest, soaking him to the bone. He staggered back out of reflex, swearing under his breath. When the water subsided, he glared over the tops of his arms. 

“Think you’re pretty funny, tin can, don’cha?” he snapped, baring his teeth as he threw his arms out, stepping forward menacingly. Zenyatta merely shrugged, unfazed with the impression of a smile of a smile radiating from his featureless face. A sharp gesture of his hand punctuated Junkrat’s words as he added, “I’m gonna get’cha back for that, ya garbo bucket of bolts!”

Bastion wheedled disapprovingly, and Zenyatta nodded along, his shoulders and head drooping and hip cocked in a way that conveyed resignation. For someone without a face, the scrap heap could be surprisingly expressive.

“I suppose we will simply have to wash his mouth out with soap,” he sighed, bending down to dunk his sponge into the water bucket. Bastion chirped in agreement, but Junkrat’s eyes went wide, darting in search of cover.

“Mate, if you think for one second, that I’m gonna let you-” The hose came on again, but this time, Junkrat was ready for it. He darted to the side, towards a likely looking stack of crates. He scrambled as fast his peg-leg would let him go, and made it to crates just as a blast of water struck him square between the shoulder blades.

He went down, but oh, the joke was on those piles of junk! The crates provided excellent cover, and there, right at Junkrat’s fingertips, lay another hose. It was time… for revenge.

“Pash me fat one, drongo!” he crowed, leaping atop the crates, hose raised and water spraying wildly. No need to worry about aiming, because one, he didn’t know where Zenyatta would be, and two) really, who needed to aim? During the opening salvo, he identified his target and swung his hose around to spray him in the face. Zenyatta went down under the onslaught with a surprised yelp, which gave Junkrat the perfect opening to advance.

Throwing his hose away, he took half a step back, giving himself a little space to build up momentum, then he launched himself off the crates with a “Bomb’s away!” He didn’t quite land on top of Zenyatta, but he bowled the Omnic over and straddled Zenyatta’s hips in enough time that it didn’t matter anyway. A flick of his wrist caused Zenyatta to drop his hose, disarming him, and Junkrat snatched up the soggy sponge Zenyatta dropped when he first went down.

“Who’s washing whose mouth out now, ey tin can?” he cackled, slapping the sponge into Zenyatta’s face, roughly smearing it back and forth.

Zenyatta threw his head back with a laugh and grabbed Junkrat’s biceps, his feet kicking behind him. Belatedly, Junkrat realized things like water and sponges were much less of a problem for machines than they were for humans. It took a little bit of the wind out of his sails, but he did still have Zenyatta pinned.

“Say ‘Junkrat’s the best!’ and I’ll let you go!” he demanded, giving the sponge a squeeze so that a little more water oozed out.

Without hesitation, Zenyatta parroted back, “Junkrat is the best” with a laugh still burbling in his mechanical voice.

That just wouldn’t do. Junkrat wanted his ego fed, not to be laughed at by rusty Omnics. So pressed down harder with the sponge, demanding, “Say ‘Junkrat is the most handsome devil you have ever seen!’”

This time, Zenyatta seemed to choke and splutter, cooling fans clicking on and whirring to life somewhere within his torso. If he had a face, skin, and blood, he’d probably be blushing, and yeah, knowing had Junkrat feeling pretty good. Rustling Genji’s jimmies was as easy as breathing in the same room as him, but flustering Zenyatta was a nigh impossible task. Who knew this sort of this was what it would take?  
“J-Junkrat is the most handsome devil I have ever seen.” There was still a bit of laughter in his voice, but the stammer, the hesitation was enough to bring a smug smile to Junkrat’s face.

“Gooooood,” he crooned, shifting the sponge from Zenyatta’s face and leaning down over the Omnic. He hovered just inches over Zenyatta’s face, close enough to be uncomfortable. “Now, say ‘I’m a filthy little bot and I deserved to be scrapped.’”

Zenyatta’s fans hitched, and there was no laughter in his voice when he next spoke, just pain as he uttered a strangled little “Jamison…”

“ _Say it!_ ” Junkrat hissed, jolting forward so their faces were practically touching, his voice low and rough. “I want to hear you-”

He cut off with an offended shriek as water and soap suds came down around his head.

“Bon bon whee!” Bastion chirped as Junkrat jerked upright, twisting around to glare at it. If he could fire lasers from his eyes, the Bastion would be short one head, but alas and alack, all that happened was the Bastion burbled up with laughter. Even worse, Zenyatta _joined_ the blasted weapon.

“This is why I bloody well hate Omnics!” he spat as he pushed himself to his feet. “Bloody useless wankers thinking they’re better’n people. I can’t stand it! I ain’t having it!”

“Jamison,” Zenyatta sighed, clattering faintly as he pushed himself up right, but Junkrat waved him off. 

“I don’t wanna hear it, trash can!” Junkrat threw over his shoulder, storming determinedly back towards the barracks. His shorts were soaked through and clinging uncomfortable, and he wanted them off as soon as possible. He wasn’t about to stop for _Zenyatta_ of all Omnics. “You’re the worst of them all.”

Stupid mech. He hated Zenyatta the most of all Omnics he’d ever encountered because of just how hard Zenyatta made it to hate him. For a second there, he’d almost forgotten he wasn’t a person. They’d been having _fun._ They were _playing._ He should have known better. He shouldn’t have let his guard down.

“Bloody stupid machines! What was I even doing out there in the first place?”


End file.
